


Matching Pieces

by ivoryline



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), World War II, and crowley tends to aziraphale, aziraphale tends to crowleys feet, if you know what i mean, then the comfort goes right back to angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoryline/pseuds/ivoryline
Summary: The sight of the angel kneeling before him, washing Crowley's feet with what was shockingly like reverence sparked to life the ache in his chest that he had been carrying around for at least a few thousand years. He felt all at once too big for his corporation and insignificant in the weight of the moment they were in.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 150
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Matching Pieces

Crowley wasn't sure if Aziraphale would follow him or not. They hadn't spoken in nearly 80 years, which wasn't much in the grand scheme of their lives but that silence had a different sort of significance to it. Crowley had slept the years away, hoping to wake up to a different world, a different heart in his chest. He wondered what the angel had been doing, if the years had felt as long to him.

  
Crowley picked his way through the rubble and listened for any indication that Aziraphale was following. In the silence behind him he swallowed down his disappointment and fought the urge to turn back for one last glance. The soft look Aziraphale had given Crowley as he handed over the books would have to be enough. He could hold onto that until Aziraphale wanted him around again.

  
"Crowley, wait."

  
There was a second set of footsteps behind his. In the violent upswing of his emotions Crowley lost his hold on his nonchalance. The angel stumbled and Crowley was at his side with embarrassing speed, gripping his elbow to steady him.

  
"Easy there, angel," Crowley said and cursed the breathless quality of his voice. 

  
Aziraphale shot him a sideways glance but made no move to pull away from Crowley's hold. Gingerly, he led the two of them out of the rubble and onto the sidewalk. Crowley thought that once they were on solid ground Aziraphale would put the distance back up between them like he always did when they crossed the arbitrary line that neither one was sure who put there or when, but he did rather the opposite. He wound his arm more firmly in Crowley's and if not for the distant sound of Klaxons and the utter darkness of the street around them it would've been a perfect mimic of a late night lover's stroll.

  
Crowley had parked his Bentley a couple blocks away in anticipation for the night's destruction and he paused when they reached it, loathing the idea of removing himself from the gentle heat that came with being pressed into the angel's side. He allowed himself a moment's hesitation before he pulled away, fast tracking his way through the stages of grief as he opened the passenger side door for Aziraphale.

  
Aziraphale stood rooted to the spot, mouth slightly agape as he took in Crowley's car. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as Aziraphale openly admired her.

  
"Beautiful, isn't she," Crowley said, "I always knew the humans had it in them to figure out something better than horses."

  
Aziraphale came to himself with a start and looked between Crowley and the pavement with that rabbit-quick way of his.

  
"Yes, quite," he murmured. Crowley thought the bombing must have shaken him up. He gestured for Aziraphale to get in the car.

  
He shuffled forward and sat in the offered seat. Crowley made sure all the required limbs and books were safely inside before gently closing the door. When Crowley was settled into the driver's seat he chanced a glance of his own at Aziraphale. He was running his hands over the dash with a touch so gentle it was nearly a caress. Crowley tamped down a shiver.

  
Crowley probably destroyed whatever fondness Aziraphale was starting to feel towards his car the moment he pulled away from the curb. He kept one hand firmly on the briefcase and the other pressed to the roof in a bid for some stability. He looked at Crowley with something akin to betrayal.

  
"Crowley, you cannot drive like this," he said severely. Crowley looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  
"Why not?"

  
"It's pitch black!" Crowley looked nonplussed. "You'll kill us both."

  
"No I won't. I know what I'm doing, Aziraphale," Crowley told him with an eye-roll.

  
All too soon they arrived at the bookshop. Crowley turned to Aziraphale but the quip he had prepared died on his tongue when he caught sight of his expression. Aziraphale was pressed into the passenger door, his hands worrying at the handle of the briefcase. He had a smudge of soot across his cheekbone and his clothes were more rumpled than Crowley ever recalled seeing them but this was all secondary information to him at the moment. The angel's storm colored eyes were fixed on Crowley, pinning him in place.

  
"You should come inside," Aziraphale told him, "I'm sure we have a lot to catch up on."

  
"Angel..." Crowley said softly. He wanted it to be this easy. He wanted to share a glass of wine and make Aziraphale laugh just like they had before that day in St. James. Aziraphale sensed his hesitation.

  
"Your feet must be bothering you by now. At least let me give you something to help," he said and then committed the sin of fluttering his lashes. Crowley's willpower crumbled.

  
Crowley swallowed and nodded, reaching for the door handle with little grace. His first step was punctuated with a barely smothered hiss of pain. He was determined not to look at Aziraphale so as not to see the concern he knew was on his face, which is why he was taken by surprise when he reached the sidewalk and the other looped his arm through his again. 

  
He allowed himself to be led into the bookshop with Aziraphale tutting all the while. Aziraphale deposited him on the couch in the spot he had come to think of as his and told him firmly to stay put. He watched Aziraphale bustle off up the stairs to the flat Crowley knew was there but had never seen. He tipped his head back and allowed himself to take comfort in the soft glow of the lamp on the side table next to the couch. He breathed in that familiar dusty smell he had missed so much and it went a ways to repairing one of the many fissures on his heart. He tried his best to ignore the rising ache that began at the soles of his feet and crept up his legs.

  
Aziraphale returned with a wide basin filled with water and a first aid kit tucked under his arm. Crowley straightened up as Aziraphale set the basin on the ground at his feet. Before he could get a word out, Aziraphale knelt down on the faded rug and glanced up at Crowley with a flutter of his lashes.

  
"Allow me," a statement posed as a question.

  
"You don't have to," he breathed.

  
"I know." 

  
Crowley was a tense set of angles as Aziraphale reached out with a tentative hand and began to roll up the hems of his trousers. He untied his right shoe and gripped his ankle gently. He cast his gaze up to Crowley as if asking for permission. Crowley gave a slight nod and Aziraphale removed one shoe and then the other. Next came the socks which were pulled off almost achingly slow and then Aziraphale's warm fingers were touching his bare skin.

  
They both let out a low hiss, Aziraphale's in sympathy for the reddened skin that comprised his soles and Crowley in an overwhelmed reaction to Aziraphale's fingers on the pulse point in his ankle. Aziraphale placed Crowley's feet in the basin and the coolness of the water made him groan. A dusty pink blush painted Aziraphale's cheeks as he busied himself with the first aid kit. Something hot curled in Crowley's stomach at the sight of that blush.

  
Not finding what he was looking for, Aziraphale snapped his fingers in a downward motion and conjured a white washcloth. He dipped the cloth into the basin and began washing the dust from the bombed church that had found its way to Crowley's skin. Aziraphale eyes were focused firmly on his task and Crowley couldn't help but stare at him. His platinum curls had taken on a golden hue in the lamplight, an already soft visage softened further.

  
The sight of the angel kneeling before him, washing Crowley's feet with what was shockingly like reverence sparked to life the ache in his chest that he had been carrying around for at least a few thousand years. He felt all at once too big for his corporation and insignificant in the weight of the moment they were in. He removed his glasses with a trembling hand and set them on the table beside the couch so he could take Aziraphale in unobstructed.

  
He still had soot painting his cheek and Crowley suddenly found it a mortal sin for Aziraphale to be anything but pristine. He leaned forward, ignoring the pounding of his unnecessary heart, and cupped Aziraphale's cheek, his thumb swiping across the offending smirch. Aziraphale froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Crowley's. He breathed out in a huff as if surprised to find Crowley's eyes bare. The warm thing in Crowley's stomach seemed determined to burn him from the inside out as Aziraphale's eyes darkened. The air between them felt electric.

  
Aziraphale shifted, just a small tilt of his chin upwards and the tension broke. Crowley surged forward and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's. It was a chaste thing, just enough pressure for Crowley to confirm that Aziraphale's lips were as soft as he imagined them to be. He pulled back just enough to search Aziraphale's face, hoping he wasn't alone in this.  
"Is this-" he began. Aziraphale dropped the cloth into the basin, water sloshing over the sides and soaking the carpet, and grabbed Crowley's lapels with wet hands. He tugged the demon down into another kiss with something like desperation.

  
Crowley swiped his tongue over Aziraphale's bottom lip and when the angel gasped Crowley deepened the kiss. He licked into Aziraphale's mouth chasing the taste of sunshine that seemed to be an integral part of his aura. Aziraphale moaned and Crowley swore right then and there he would do anything to wring more sounds like that out of him. 

  
Aziraphale pulled back and Crowley couldn't stop himself from chasing the contact. He banished the basin of water and stood up, placing a hand on Crowley's chest and easing him back into the couch. He wedged a knee in between Crowley's, half kneeling and half looming over the demon. His fingertips skimmed over Crowley's cheekbone and Crowley didn't even bother to suppress a shiver. Aziraphale's gaze was focused and hungry as he leaned in to kiss him once more. 

  
Aziraphale's hands were bracketed on either side of Crowley's head for balance while Crowley kept his in tight fists at his side, terrified of ruining whatever this was. Aziraphale adjusted his weight, his knee adding pressure on Crowley's quickly stiffening cock. Crowley groaned and his control snapped. He gripped Aziraphale's hips and pulled. Aziraphale complied and his kisses grew sloppy and needy. He rocked forward again and Crowley's hips bucked on their own accord. 

  
Crowley trailed kisses down his jaw to his throat, fingers fumbling at the tartan bow tie. With the bow tie out of the way he got to work on the buttons. He got as far as Aziraphale's collar bones before getting distracted and lavishing the exposed skin with open mouthed kisses. His teeth grazed the delicate skin, all cream and roses, and there was a sharp intake of breath from Aziraphale accompanied by the snap of fingers. They were both quite suddenly naked and Crowley was nearly undone by the sudden sensation of his bare skin on Aziraphale's. 

  
Aziraphale straddled him properly and brought one hand to skate over Crowley's ribs as if counting the ridges. Crowley took in the pale thatch of chest hair and his eyes followed it down to the cock the angel had manifested. It was as pale as the rest of him except for the redness of the tip and curved upwards against his stomach like an invitation. He skimmed his hands up Aziraphale's thighs and delighted in the soft skin. 

  
He leaned forward to swipe his tongue over one of Aziraphale's pink nipples. Aziraphale moaned and thrust forward, his cock dragging against Crowley's. Crowley gasped against Aziraphale's chest and gripped his thighs hard enough to leave indents in the soft flesh. Aziraphale reached a hand between them and grasped both of their cocks. He ran his thumb across their heads, mixing their precome. Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath and Crowley quickly reclaimed his mouth in a bid to smother the embarrassing noises escaping from his own throat. Aziraphale began to stroke them both with that perfectly manicured hand as he sucked Crowley's tongue into his mouth. He wouldn't last much longer if they carried on like this and he wanted to stretch this out as much as he could. This could be the only opportunity he would get to take his angel apart.

  
"Angel," he gasped as he pulled back, "let me taste you."

  
"What?" Aziraphale asked, sounding breathless. He laid a hand over Aziraphale's, his fingertips brushing over the head of Aziraphale's cock. "Oh," he breathed, "please."

  
Crowley laid Aziraphale down on the couch and kissed him with a measured slowness before traveling down through that patch of chest hair and leaving biting kisses down the angel's soft stomach. Aziraphale drug his fingernails down Crowley's back and he arched into the feeling. He kissed the crease where Aziraphale's thigh met his hip and tasted the salt of his sweat. Aziraphale whined, his hips bucking.

  
"It's alright, I've got you," Crowley promised.

  
Crowley wrapped his hand around Aziraphale's cock and couldn't help thinking how perfect the weight felt in his hand, as if he was meant to hold him like this. He licked Aziraphale from base to tip and Aziraphale keened, his hands tangling in Crowley's hair. Crowley took Aziraphale fully into his mouth, swallowing him down to the hilt. The hands in his hair tightened their grip and the edge of pain sent sparks of pleasure down his spine.

  
"Oh, Crowley," he gasped, "you beautiful creature." Crowley moaned around Aziraphale's cock. He swirled his tongue around the tip and Aziraphale cried out.

  
"That's, oh, that's perfect. You're so good, my dear, so good," he babbled. Crowley rutted against the couch chasing what friction he could. Aziraphale was going to ruin him.

  
"Please, Crowley, I want to be inside you," he pleaded.

  
Crowley scrambled up to straddle Aziraphale, performing a quick miracle to ready himself. He once again took Aziraphale's length in his hand and lined him up with his entrance. He paused and met Aziraphale's eyes. He had to be sure before crossing that uncrossable line.

  
"Angel," an aborted question in the form of a breath.

  
"Please, I-I need," Aziraphale stuttered out. 

  
Crowley lowered himself down slowly and frantically tried to commit the delicious feeling of being stretched to his memory. Once he was fully seated he stilled, listening to their ragged breathing. He was struck, suddenly, with how perfectly they fit together. Two puzzle pieces from different boxes whose edges just happened to line up just right. 

  
He rocked forward a fraction and the drag of Aziraphale inside him made him gasp. He can't have been meant to experience something like this. He continued to move in slow, small increments and Aziraphale's hands came up to grasp his hips in a featherlight touch. He ground down and Aziraphale arched up towards him. Always greedy, he needed more.

  
"Fuck me," Crowley begged, "please, Aziraphale." 

  
The grip on his hips tightened and Aziraphale began to fuck up into him in earnest. Crowley remembered belatedly that the angel's soft exterior was just a facade and beneath the cardigans and the love of pastries was a strength Crowley could only guess at. All of his nerve endings were on fire, lit up from the inside out. Aziraphale reached a hand up and pulled Crowley down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongues. 

  
"I want you to come in me," Crowley gasped against Aziraphale's lips and his rhythm stuttered, "I want to be full of you. I want everything." Aziraphale was gripping his hip hard enough to bruise and Crowley desperately hoped it would. Evidence of a divine hand, a fingerprint map of Crowley's ecstasy.

  
Aziraphale thrust up once more, hard and deep, and came with a shout that sounded like Crowley's name. Crowley felt himself pushed over the edge and stars ignited in his vision. He sank his teeth into Aziraphale's shoulder to smother a sob. 

  
They lay there for a moment, catching breaths they didn't need. Crowley lifted his head up and saw the completely devastated expression on Aziraphale's face, the kiss bitten lips, the blush high on his cheekbones, the half lidded eyes and he couldn't take it. He tipped forward to rest his forehead against Aziraphale's and tried to ground himself.

  
Crowley wasn't sure how much time had passed in silence when Aziraphale cleared his throat but he knew a cue when he heard one. He lifted up and sat back on the couch and nearly wept at the empty feeling. Aziraphale waved the mess away and sat up. He was looking anywhere but at Crowley which was not an encouraging sign. Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers. If they were going to do this he at least wanted to be clothed.

  
"Oh," Aziraphale jumped at the sudden reappearance of his clothes and shot a glance at Crowley before looking away again.

  
"Aziraphale," he began.

  
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale interrupted and began wringing his hands, "I'm afraid I got rather carried away."

  
"Carried away," Crowley repeated, feeling cold. 

  
"Yes," he said more firmly, "we need to be more careful Crowley." Crowley wondered if he would ever be able to hear the angel say his name again without remembering the way he said it while he was buried inside Crowley.

  
"Right," Crowley said. "Right. Okay." 

  
Crowley stood with a wince but he couldn't possibly care less about the burns on his feet. Something inside him was breaking and he needed to be far, far away from the bookshop. He couldn't cope with the fallout and Aziraphale at the same time. 

  
He retrieved his sunglasses from the side table and stumbled his way to the front door. He half expected Aziraphale to call out to him and he hated himself for it. He paused at the door and turned back to see Aziraphale looking at him with eyes the color of a frigid sea, his lips pressed into a thin line. Crowley left the bookshop. Aziraphale let him go without a word.

  
Back behind the wheel of the Bentley he wondered how many more centuries they would need before they were on the same page. He wondered how many more they had left at all. He found himself wishing he had stayed asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr!


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